In the Spring of life,
The freshness of youth is new.
Love never becomes trite.
Too much excitement to be blue. In the Summer of life,
Marriage settles in.
Children fuss and fight.
Parents learn to bend. In the Fall of life,
Balding begins and hair turns gray.
Now, grandchildren fuss and fight,
But, go home at the end of the day. In the Winter of life,
Old age saps our breath.
Illness takes a big bite.
The circle of life closes with death.

by Charles Hill

Other poems of CHARLES HILL (2)

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